[The words come out too softly, because anything else means a loud sob, and while there has never been any shame in Alucard for letting that out, there is always the fear of making the other two worry more than strictly required. It's stupid, he knows that it's stupid, but it has always been there. The three of them, they've shown all the vulnerable spots to each other since the start of this. But that doesn't stop the kneejerk response of trying to hide it.
Everything else is catharsis. Never has the love of the other two been in doubt. But never has an uncomfortable truth strayed far from Alucard's mind either: he only has this because of what happened to his mother and what the world demanded be done to deal with his father. The ugly parallels from the week before, the horror of history repeating itself for only a second, that's the worst part of all of this. Not being laid low by the stupidity and fears of men. Not the agony of the silver. Just the fire and the raw anger and the fucking stake.
There's a point in all of this that he lowers Sypha's arms so they rest around his middle instead, draws them away for just a moment, and lets go so that he can turn around and bury his face into the crook of her neck. There's warmth there too, and no shame in getting the area damp. She probably anticipated it at some point anyway.]
no subject
[The words come out too softly, because anything else means a loud sob, and while there has never been any shame in Alucard for letting that out, there is always the fear of making the other two worry more than strictly required. It's stupid, he knows that it's stupid, but it has always been there. The three of them, they've shown all the vulnerable spots to each other since the start of this. But that doesn't stop the kneejerk response of trying to hide it.
Everything else is catharsis. Never has the love of the other two been in doubt. But never has an uncomfortable truth strayed far from Alucard's mind either: he only has this because of what happened to his mother and what the world demanded be done to deal with his father. The ugly parallels from the week before, the horror of history repeating itself for only a second, that's the worst part of all of this. Not being laid low by the stupidity and fears of men. Not the agony of the silver. Just the fire and the raw anger and the fucking stake.
There's a point in all of this that he lowers Sypha's arms so they rest around his middle instead, draws them away for just a moment, and lets go so that he can turn around and bury his face into the crook of her neck. There's warmth there too, and no shame in getting the area damp. She probably anticipated it at some point anyway.]